


i'm in the graveyard if looks could kill

by sleepyMoritz (Catherss)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Backstory, Coming Out, Depression, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, M/M, Past, Past Child Abuse, Self Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 13:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9073852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catherss/pseuds/sleepyMoritz
Summary: One of Credence's earliest memories is him, aged six, learning of his parent's death.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I try and write morbid and I end up with banter. Sorry about that. I've probably never written and published anything so fast - normally this stuff takes a few weeks, but this was mostly whipped up in a few days. Nice. I'll probably go back over an edit tomorrow, though.
> 
> Please heed the tags - discussion of depression, suicide, self-harm, and all that fun stuff. I have never experienced these things, so I'm not sure if I got it right. Please please please tell me if something needs to change.
> 
> I'm not sure if this is also bit OOC. Hope you enjoy anyways. My tumblr is sleepymoritz - come say hi!
> 
> Title from "Pull My Trigger" by Miike Snow.
> 
> EDIT 28/12/16: Added some notes at the end, added some italics n shit, corrected some grammar.

 

One of Credence's earliest memories is him, aged six, learning of his parents death.

In fact, it may well be his earliest memory. Perhaps if they hadn't died, he'd have had one before that, but this memory took up so much space in his head, sometimes it was like it'd crawled down his spine to constrict his heart and block up his lungs. Sometimes it felt like it was a big black hole that he spiraled into at 3AM on school nights, staring blankly up at the ceiling, half-wishing it'd just collapse on him and put him out of his misery.

But anyways.

2006\. April, springtime. His uncle sitting him down, red-eyed and fidgeting. "... Your parents have gone to a better place."

Better place? Did they not like it here?

"No, Credence. I mean... I-- they're dead, Credence."

Dead?

"They've gone away."

Will they come back?

"No, Credence, because they've died."

He didn't understand. Why can't they come back?

"They just... _can't_."

Then, the memory ended. Just like that. He wasn't even sure if that's exactly what his uncle said and not just a collage of dreams, fantasies and nightmares he'd had over his sixteen years. With memories, it is always hard to tell.

Casually suicidal. That's what the therapist - doctor? - called him. Casually suicidal. No _real_ intent, you see, Mr Barebone, just an inner monologue.

The doctor looked between Credence on the hospital bed, pale and tried, IV in one wrist and a thick bandage on the other, and his uncle. No real intent, he said. His uncle turned to him and asked _why, then?_

How could he answer that? How can he put words to that big black hole? Constant inner monologue. If I kill myself, I won't have to go to school. If I kill myself, I don't have to tidy my room. This is good, but you know what'd be better? Death.

But anyways.

 

\---

 

Credence had lived in England for eleven years now. He had a slight trace of an American accent, which he can quell or breathe life into, depending on what is called for. Most the time though, it's a bit of an ugly hybrid that he just lived with.

Seventeen years on God's green earth. Only one left in secondary school. Only one left. Only one left.

He could make one year, though it felt like a lifetime. And, really, it wasn't a full year - it was September now, and he'd be able to leave in July after exams. Plus he'd get exam leave, and that would be easy.

Yeah. Easy. A few months. He could do that.

Sitting down at his art room desk, he suddenly realised the workspace next to him, which had been vacant for the entirety of his A-Level career, now had a pencil case and a thick scrapbook with pieces of work poking out of the pages on it. Mysterious, to say the least. He tilted it slightly to see the name on a white sticker on the front - Newt Scamander, in a spindly scrawl.

His first question was _what the hell kind of a name is Newt?_ , and his second was _is that Newt Scamander?_ as he spotted a teenager he'd never seen walk towards him. He was fairly average in height, similar to Credence, messy chestnut hair, kind of looked like he'd just sort of accidentally wandered in but was confident in his ability to make the mistake work.

Credence flicked his eyes down to the ground.

"Miss Blackman said I should sit here. Hope that's alright?"

God, that boy was British born and bred, that much was obvious. His accent clearly hailed from further down south, possibly some of the nicer parts of London. Credence looked up for a second and shrugged nonchalantly. "No problem. It's not my desk."

The boy huffed a laugh and said, "well, either way, I'm Newt Scamander."

"Yeah, I saw your book." He gestured to it as Newt sat on the stool, turning to listen to him. "Credence Barebone. Is Newt short for something? It's an unusual name."

"Newton... Family tradition." He paused, then smiled cheekily. "Also, "weird name" says the kid called _Credence_?"

He had balls, that was for sure. Making fun of someone on your first day in a new school? Credence was torn - was he going to be another bully, or was this to be the start of some back-and-forth?

"It means "truth". My parents were Protestant, verging on Puritan."

Newt laughed again. "Unlucky."

"Yeah." Credence thought about saying _well, at least they're dead now!_ but most didn't take well to dead parent jokes when the parents in question were actually dead. "I haven't seen you around before," he said instead, as a way of prompting to figure out who the _fuck_ Newt was.

"Yeah, just moved up from Brighton."

"How come?"

Newt stilled as though his nervous energy had just drained out of him. "I was expelled. My parents wanted me to live with my brother."

"Oh."

He smiled brightly. "But it's good now! I'm going to try really hard this year. When do you think you'll start revising for A-Levels?"

"Oh, fuck me, don't even remind me, please."

Newt laughed and Mrs Blackman took the moment to call the class into order.

 

\---

 

As it turned out, Newt and Credence got along well, although it was like another circle of hell when trying to order food McDonalds; both not really wanting to speak to the cashier, but also not really wanting to ask the other to, because they both knew that it'd be hellish for the other.

But yeah. Other than that.

Newt seemed surprised that Credence didn't have any friends to speak of besides the Goldstein sisters, who even still weren't really friends. Just acquaintances on good terms. Credence didn't have the heart to tell Newt that _he_ was weird, _Newt_ was weird, and _that_ was why they got along.

Although anxious to impress and keep Newt by his side, eventually, that faded into a easier relationship. Of course, the thought that he would leave never really went away, but it got better as time went on.

Newt, however, had one big soother. Whilst Credence hadn't found one other than listening to music, drawing and cutting himself, which he generally tried to not participate in any more due to the nagging feeling that he might go just a little bit too far this time (but that was easier said than done, and he had a few thin scabbed up scratches on his thighs to prove it). But anyway, back to Newt.

Newt loved animals. Any time he saw a dog in the street or a cat on a wall, he'd approach, making dumb noises and cooing happily.

"I want to work in a zoo when I'm older," Newt had said to him, completely serious, holding a large cat which seemed none too impressed with being cuddled by the boy.

"Really?"

"Yeah. And I'm gonna work to dispel myths about animals. Then everyone will love animals as much as I do."

Credence Barebone doesn't believe in love and he'd be happy attend the funeral of romance, but his heart did melt a little bit at that.

 

\---

 

Credence reached over to grab the hot chocolate powder from the side.

"Oh, is that your hot chocolate powder?" Newt asked, leaning against the counter. "I wondered who bought it." It was quiet in the common room since most people had a lesson, though there were the Goldstein sisters in the corner, giggling away to each other. Credence had never seen siblings get along so well - it was slightly disconcerting, more than anything.

"No," Credence said, shrugging. He opened the tin and put in a couple of teaspoons, then closing it again and stirring the mix into hot water.

"I can't believe you make hot chocolate with water."

"It's alright."

"It's _grim_ ," Newt insisted, shaking his head. "Milk master race." Credence laughed and stretched to put the hot chocolate were it was before, label facing how it was before he found it. Newt suddenly grabbed his hand and looked at his wrist.

_Oh shit._

"What...?" Newt gently, so gently, pulled his sleeve up, revealing ugly white scars. Credence snached his hand away.

"They're nothing." He cast his eyes down, God, his eyes were always on the ground. Frustration and embarrassment filled him. He'd always carry those scars.

Newt chewed on the inside of his cheek and his hand found Credence's wrist. Newt pulled his wrist up and held it onto his chest. "I'm sorry." He was so _sincere_ , his face drawn into concern, his eyes making rare contact with Credence's, it _hurt_.

"Thanks." He smiled tightly, pausing a moment before tugging his hand down and away. "Let's get on with this PowerPoint, hey?"

 

\---

 

Two months later, Credence stood in a clean and bright hallway, fingernails digging into his palms.

The door swung open.

"You must be Newt's friend."

Credence nodded, eyes down to the ground.

"Well, come in then."

He opened the door wider and let Credence into the apartment. Just like the hallway, it was airy and open spaced. Surprisingly tidy considering that this man was a relative of Newt's, who lived a state of perpetual mess and confusion.

"You must be Theseus?"

The man, who Credence noted shared many similarities to Newt although all much sharper - where Newt was slim, androgynous and lanky, Theseus had a prominent jaw, neatly parted and slicked hair, a bulky frame. Credence remembered Theseus was an ex-military man.

It looked a lot like Theseus didn't think of himself as an _ex_ -military man.

Newt emerged from a door Credence hadn't noticed when being suddenly drenched in fear over his more than imposing big brother.

"Ah, Credence!" He gestured behind him to the door he came from. "Come over here, we can start revising?"

"If you insist," Credence said nervously, stepping forward, glad to be out of Theseus' radar.

"Well, it's you who said you wanted to pass your A-Levels." Newt said, closing the door behind them. Credence's anxiety was left at the door and he breathed a sigh of relief. "I for one am excited to become a high-end stripper."

"High-end? Don't you think you're being ambitious?" Credence slipped his backpack off his shoulder and sat cross-legged on the floor. Newt picked up a pile of papers and joined him.

"I think the pimp will take pity on me. I've been told I have puppy-dog eyes."

"Who the hell told you that?"

"A pimp."

Credence snorted, rummaging through his school shit. "I feel about eight years behind on everything. I missed a lesson and it's like they've thrown me into a PhD Microbiology lecture."

"I have the notes for that lesson. I didn't really understand most of it, but hey ho." Newt picked up a pile of flashcards. "Want to start with these?"

"Hang on a second, I just need a moment to die inside then resurrect myself." Credence took a deep breath, eyes closed. "Yep, I'm good. But you answer questions first." Credence made a grab for the flashcards.

"Ah ah ah!" Newt leaned away, holding the cards out behind him. "I'm not sure I want to."

" _Tough tits!_ "

Newt laughed but leaned away further as Credence made a more desperate attempt to snatch the cards away. "You go first!"

"No! I don't know anything!" Credence pushed Newt over and made another attempt but Newt scrambled away, laughing.

"Nor do I! I got a C in the last class test!"

"Yeah!? Well I got a D!"

"You got a _D_ , did you?" Newt asked, mischievous, and Credence was suddenly aware that he was basically looming over the boy, their legs in between the other's, Newt leaning up against his chest of drawers. Newt's hand, which had been holding the flashcards above his head descended slowly to the floor, their game forgotten in the pounding of their hearts.

"You're the worst." Credence breathed.

"You love it," Newt smiled up at him, making rare eye contact. His smile was quickly wiped off his face when Credence ducked down to kiss him. Newt's breath stalled and Credence's mind was a constant loop of _shit, this was a fucking awful idea_ , and his anxiety seemed to have snuck in under the door because now his hands were shaking with it. But Newt's was soft and after a moment, a slight change of position, Credence realised that he could feel a brush of Newt's teeth against his lips. _Fuck_.

Credence pulled back. Newt's eyes opened slowly. His face was red and his hair all messy like how he knew Newt wanted it. He grinned up at Credence. "You're not getting out of answering questions first."

"That's not why I--"

"I know," Newt said, giving him a small peck and Credence's brain stalled again. "Just teasing."

"Teasing? Unlike you." Credence deadpanned back.

Newt laughed. "Today's been an unusual day." He tried to sit up straight but almost knocked into Credence. "Move over. As nice as this is."

Credence sat back on his hunches and Newt sits up straighter. "I think I've gone about this all wrong."

"I don't think there's any particular way to go about this." Newt said, running his arms over Credence's long sleeve top. His warm fingers and palm felt odd over his scars.

"I suppose we are both rather non-traditional."

"Positively unconventional."

"Overly unusual."

"Very much so odd." Newt nodded faux-seriously, then after a moment, broke out into a shy grin. "You're very handsome, have I told you?"

Credence didn't believe it for a second, but it was a nice thought. "No. Uh, thank you. You- you are as well."

"I know. Didn't I tell you I was going to be a stripper?"

Credence threw back his head and laughed. "Still holding on to that pipe-dream?"

"Gotta have some light at the end of the tunnel." Newt started laughing too, and before long they were giggling mess on the floor.

 

\---

 

Both Newt and Credence were very private, so they continued their affair very much so in secret - from Theseus, from Credence's uncle and cousins, from, well, everyone. But it felt nice sometimes. Their little secret.

Another fact of life for Credence was that, despite the eternal sunshine that Newt emitted, the black dog of his depression followed him still, snapping from inside and tugging on it's leash. He did the best he could to keep it at bay, but some days were worse than others, when he felt that it sat on his chest and all Newt could do was lie with him, arm slung over him.

Newt was endlessly understanding, even when Credence felt like he must be endlessly tiring.

Credence had suspicions that Newt had his dark days as well. It took him a few months to figure out exactly what happened at his old school, but it eventually all came out. They were lying side-by-side, having just finished a film on Netflix. Credence locked his tablet (secondhand from his Uncle's friend, of course) and stretched out.

"That was good," Credence said.

"It was _alright_."

"Oh, sorry, I forgot we were in the presence of a film critic."

Newt laughed. "Yeah, but what was that ending? Like - going up into heaven?"

"It was sweet," Credence insisted, turning and nosing Newt's neck.

"They should have cut away before that."

"You're so _fussy_."

Newt kissed him then, gently, lazily, before pulling away and sighing. "I think I might fall asleep."

"Don't sleep," Credence whined. "I'm not tired."

"Sucks to be you."

Credence shoved him, laughing softly. "Did you remember to send off your UCAS?"

"I'll do it tomorrow."

"You said that yesterday."

Newt's eyes flickered open. "The great thing about "tomorrow" is that it is always an unattainable concept, and therefore there is no need to worry about it."

"Wow, you're such a poet."

"They're not my words."

"Hm... Shakespeare?" Newt shook his head, smiling. "Keats? Uh, Edgar Allen Poe?"

He rose an eyebrow. "How many poets do you know?"

"I think I'm coming to the end of the list."

"Oh dear."

Credence snapped his fingers."Oh! Wordsworth!"

"Nope."

Credence thought for a second. "... Kanye West?"

Newt laughed. "Ah, that great poet. What a legend. Some may even call him a lege, which is the _highest_ honour. What was it he wrote? War poetry? _Lest We Forget_? _Dulce et Decorum Est_?"

"No, Black Skinhead." Newt laughed again. He always looked so handsome when he laughed. "Who was it then?"

Newt hesitated. "A friend at my old school."

"A friend?"

"Well, I had a bit of a crush on her."

" _Her_?" Credence repeated in disbelief.

"Oh... Go away!" Newt shoved him, rolling his eyes. Newt rarely swore. It was quite endearing to hear him try and come up with alternatives.

Credence kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry. C'mon, tell me about her."

Newt shrugged, rolling onto his back and avoiding eye contact. "There isn't much to say."

The good mood settled down into the dust. "Did she hurt you?"

"In some ways," he said. "But it's because of her that I'm here. So I guess it balances out."

Credence frowned. "How?"

Newt paused. He then let out a sigh, as though facing something inevitable.

"She let a feral dog loose in a hallway. I took the blame. I got expelled for endangering student life."

"Didn't they have CCTV?"

"Not in that corridor, apparently. She said that I should take the blame, and I was so lovestruck..."

"That you just... did." Credence finished for him. "That's horrible."

"In the past," Newt replied, smiling again, looking warm and cozy and loveable. "And besides, now I'm here with you."

"All things considered, then," Credence murmured, pushing Newt's hair off his forehead and running his fingers through the mop, "it worked out well for you."

 

\---

 

Credence lied.

His first memory was not of his parents being dead. His first memory was his mother slapping him and telling him that he was a very naughty boy as he stood over a shattered plate.

But that's not as dramatic, is it? That's not _tragic_. That's _sad_ , depressing, and _worse_. Because even if his parents were alive, they wouldn't have been good parents. Perhaps they would have salvaged themselves at some point, but that was a mystery that could never be answered.

He saw his cousins Chastity and Modesty and how they were around his uncle. They were happy, delighted to see him, loving. And he was loving back right back at them. Really, his uncle did not get enough credit.

His uncle was loving. His uncle was the first to find out about him and Newt, and of course, it did not happen in due time, when Credence was ready. It happened like some kind of a teen film, or a novel, or Credence's worst nightmare.

"Credence, me and C--" and his uncle cut off as Newt and Credence jumped half a mile apart, clothed, but still in a compromising position. "Oh-- Oh right. Um. Me and... You know what? Nevermind."

He closed the door.

"Fuck." Credence breathed.

"It'll be alright. You uncle is cool."

Credence turned to Newt, wide-eyed. "He could kick me out. He could make me leave. Oh fuck, where would I go? Newt, I don't have anywhere to go!"

"You could live with me." Newt suggested.

"Newt, you're great, but we've only been dating for four months - I can't move in with you!"

Newt chewed his cheek anxiously. "You're right."

Credence groaned and threw his head down into his pillow as he heard his uncle leave with Chastity. "God..."

"Send a text to him. Ask him to talk when he gets back."

Credence sat up. "I don't want to talk, what are you, _crazy!?_ I want to ignore this ever happened!"

Newt cupped Credence's jaw and Credence stilled, grounded. "You can do this, Credence," he said, gently, softly, heartbreakingly perfect. Credence kissed him desperately.

"You're too good for me," he breathed, breaking away.

"I love you," Newt replied abruptly. "I know it's only been four months and you don't have to say it back. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything--"

Credence kissed him. He couldn't say it back, get the words out his throat and he was sure that Newt didn't know what he was talking about, but he kissed him anyways. "In time," Credence assured him.

"In time." Newt replied, "in time."

Credence's big black dog curled up and whispered a growl. It was just his luck that the boy he was falling for just so happened to know the best way to deal with unruly animals.

His uncle came back and they did talk about it. They talked about it while Newt waited in the living room, Credence on his bed, his uncle hovering for a moment before joining him. His uncle, for whatever reason, seemed to do a better job of not being awkward around the girls rather than his psudo son. He wasn't angry or mad, but obviously unsure of his footing in this mysterious world of Credence's gay agenda (to kiss and/or do Newt a lot). Red-faced, he gave Credence a box of condoms, which Credence picked up with all the enthusiasm of a man being told to pick up a shovel to dig his own grave.

In the end, his uncle hugged him tightly and whispered that he loved him. As they pulled away from each other, Credence a little more teary-eyed than he'd like to admit, his uncle paused. Today had been an unexpected whirlwind of love-assurance and Credence wasn't entirely sure how to deal with it all.

"You know, as horrible as your parents death was... I'm glad I ended up with you, and I'm glad you got away from them."

"Would they not have accepted me?"

"Credence," he replied, dead serious. "They would have disowned you." His uncle picked up the forgotten condoms, chucking them to a thoroughly flustered Credence. "Now, hide these away before Modesty sees them. She's much too young."

 

\---

 

Theseus found out sometime after that, thankfully the proper way - not being found out, but being told.

Newt decided to go about it by just mentioning it casually.

"You're gay?" Theseus asked, a little bit wide-eyed over the bolognese he was cooking them up for dinner.

"Bisexual."

"But interested in men."

"Uh, yeah."

Theseus laughed. "Totally called it."

Newt was a bit outraged for a moment, but he was always the softer of the siblings, so he dropped it in favour of asking if Theseus would go see a National Theatre Live stream at the cinema with him, which Theseus also snorted at and replied that perhaps he should ask his boyfriend instead. He relayed all of this to Credence over the phone just a few minutes later.

"I'll go to the National Theatre Live thing with you." Credence said quietly, after Newt was finished.

After a long pause, where Credence was pretty sure Newt was shaking his head and wondering why he went about all the fuss just to date him, he replied resignedly:

"It's a date."

 

\---

 

 _La petite mort_ was the best kind of death, in the humble opinion of Credence. Actually, no, the _best_ kind of little death came when you let someone else tie the noose, loop it around the rafters and kick the chair out from under you.

Newt was a pretty good knot-tyer. He also had a pretty good aim to throw the rope. And he had just the right amount of force to push the only thing supporting him away; to let him fall with the noose tightening around his neck until his vision blacked out.

But Newt, in all his gentleness, would always catch him after.

 

\---

 

Half a year later, they moved into a small flat with two other students in ye olde London town. Newt started a degree in Zoology (which he was vibrating with excitement to begin) at King's College London; Credence begun a foundation degree at the University of the Arts in Art & Design.

He knew which of the two of them will probably be the breadwinner.

The universities are conveniently close and Newt's parents help pay the way to living in London. As it turns out, they're pretty fucking rich, as if Theseus' flat hadn't given it away; his mother was a very successful racehorse breeder, and his father an equally successful jockey in his heyday; now, he ran a stables for rich people. He was the kind of rich where he didn't actually have to tend to the horses himself, no, other people did _that_ for him.

They experience university together; attend fresher's fairs, make friends, make enemies ("for the last time, Newt, they don't hate you!" " _But they might!_ "), do assignments, stress out, de-stress, drink alcohol and watch films. All in all, it was great.

After a while, Credence thought that maybe he'd left his black dog at the door of his uncle's house. After an even longer time, Credence realised he was probably right in that. Sometimes it made trips down to visit him, but his scars healed over, and he forever bore them as a stark reminder that things got better; had he died on his bedroom floor that night, he wouldn't have made it here with Newt. The pain of that thought always countered the pain he'd carried around, possibly since that fateful April day when he was six.

Perhaps Newt saved him. Perhaps Newt gave him the gentle tug away from the edge he needed; a slight weight to tip the "is this worth it?" scale. Perhaps it was none of the above.

All Credence knew was that he was loveable, he was worth something and he would be in the future, and that his past experiences didn't have hang off him like the world's shittiest jewelry. Sometimes, like a gift you don't want, it can be left in a box in your wardrobe, only brought out and examined when getting distracted when tidying your bedroom once in a blue moon.

Anyways.

The days were good but the nights were better; he could curl up away from the world with Newt. 3AM nights replaying your early memories weren't so bad when you had a loveable dreamcatcher next to you.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes on some British stuff or whatever:
> 
> A-Levels - "Advanced Levels" similar to AP classes, but required if you want to continue education post 16 but don't want to do an apprenticeship or do trade training at a college. Usually you do three - Credence does Art, Biology and probably something like Health & Social Care. Newt does Art, Biology and Small Animal Care BTEC (and for my fellow British people... That's a real thing. They do it at my school). 
> 
> The "Black Dog" - from the YouTube video and book by Matthew Johnstone: "I had a black dog and his name was depression". We did about it in psychology, a very interesting way of looking at everything, reccomend checking out if you have a friend or family member with depression and want to understand better.
> 
> The film Newt & Credence watched was The Lady in the Van. Seriously tho - what the hell is that graveyard scene? Weird. (Good film overall though - rather heartbreaking. Go watch!)
> 
> UCAS - University applications (Universities & College Application Service). In the UK you send off your application to UCAS for them to distribute to your chosen Universities, up to five.
> 
> La petite mort - "the little death", referring to an orgasm. Also, like, just to point out how super duper really insanely clever I am, the title refers to Newt looking at Credence like he wants to give him a little death. If you know what I mean ;)
> 
> King's College doesn't actually do Zoology, but it is super close to UAL.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed - comments with constructive criticism are very welcome! I can also be found on Tumblr as sleepymoritz.


End file.
